


People Are Strange

by dramady, edonyx



Series: Smile Pretty for the Devil [11]
Category: Adam Lambert - Fandom, American Idol RPF, lambliff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-02
Updated: 2010-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 16:25:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  There's something to be said for coming full circle.<br/><b>Authors' Notes:</b> Contains elements of D/s, the claw glove, Doug (not in a sexy way) and self-reference.</p><p><b>Disclaimer:</b> This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	People Are Strange

"Why did I let you kiss Kesha, Adam?" Tommy's sprawled out on the leather couch in Doug's studio, an arm above his head, his coffee resting on his chest. "Why aren't we going to Argentina? And... DougBert? Doug's a good dude, but... DougBert?" He cranes his head back to look at Adam, who's sitting at his laptop in the rolling chair. "Hey, are you even listening to me? You wanna smoke up? Think we should fuck on this couch? Adam?" Tommy takes a pack of gum out of his pocket and flicks a piece at the side of Adam's head.

"Tommy? Quit." The gum bounces off Adam's shoulder and falls to the floor. Thankfully. Adam gives his lover a _look_. "You asked me to kiss Kesha. You wanted to see me 'kiss girl lips,' as I recall. And ... I have no idea what a Dougbert is. That sounds like something out of Dilbert. You guys never should have done that chat. Seriously. What were you thinking?" But he turns the chair and pats his lap. _C'mere, boy. Good Tommy_. And he's grinning.

As if Tommy could say no to that grin. "And there was a catfight after. Hisssss!" He gets off the couch and straddles Adam in the chair, hands gripping the back of it behind Adam's head. "I had no idea it'd be that insane, or that many people would join. I'm glad Monte started doing the questions though, because I can't read that fast." He leans down, rubbing the tip of his nose against Adam's. "You know me, I don't think. I just _do._" Tommy pauses, and even this close, Adam can see his grin. "Or get told what to do."

"I need to put a leash on you," Adam all but purrs. "Keep you in line." One hand slides up Tommy's back, under his hoodie, the other pushes his hair back from his face. "I hear you're going to cut your hair and dye it. This is what I _hear_." Not that it wasn't his idea. Because it totally was. Of course. "Monte just laughs at all that; you realize that, right? He's got the babies and all that and he just laughs." While being totally cool about Adam and Tommy. Of course.

"Gotta get a collar on me first," Tommy teases, looking down at Adam through his lashes. "What do _you_ think I should do with my hair, huh? Do you think I should stop wearing hoodies?" He leans down, lips brushing Adam's as he talks. "Or should I tell you what I told them about the AMA kiss? When you grabbed my hair and the back of my neck, that I got hard? They don't know that. I just told them it was really cool. But it was _really_ hot." Just like Tommy's skin is, under Adam's fingers.

"Of course it was. That's where I learned you were a good kisser," Adam tells him. "I think you need to cut your hair and give it some style and I think yes, you should stop wearing hoodies. There. We've settled all major issues. World peace is next. C'mere." Hooking his free hand around the back of Tommy's head, Adam pulls him close, lingering just a breath away before kissing him, slow and deep and easy.

Funny, there _haven't_ been any major issues between them since being public with their relationship. Yeah, there's totally been some awkward moments, but nothing as volatile as before. There's something to be said about the way Adam takes whatever kisses he wants from Tommy - amongst other things. But when he's got his hand on the back of Tommy's head, or on the back of his neck, it makes him shiver in a way he can feel in his fingertips and in his groin, and he shifts to angle the kiss right, fingertips tight on the back of the chair.

"Don't make me get the cowbell," Doug says from the doorway and Adam grins against Tommy's mouth. "Sorry, Doug." And he runs his fingers along the knobs of Tommy's spine. "Ready to go home?" he asks quietly, eyes a shade darker than they were before the kiss.

"More. Cowbell." Tommy does his best to sound like Christopher Walken, but pretty much sounds like he's got a head cold instead. "So ready to go home." Adam can feel him shiver again. "I am hard as a rock." Whispered, just so Adam can hear. No sense in burning out Doug's eardrums.

"Maybe I'll jerk you off when I drive," Adam promises and he urges Tommy up to his feet and stands, too, just right so that Doug doesn't get an eyeful of two erections. Two Big Gay Erections. The idea makes Adam laugh, honestly. "Night, boss," he calls as he throws his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders on the way out of the studio. "Just say no to the ustream, baby."

Tommy tugs down the front of his hoodie to try and hide his own boner. Sorry 'bout that, Dougasauris! "No," he says to Adam, firmly. "At least, not that I'm going to announce to the world or anything. Maybe I'll just ustream to you. And maybe you'll jerk me off in the car on the way home. Wait, does that mean you're driving one-handed? Or am I driving?"

"I'm driving. And jerking you off." Okay, probably not. That isn't safe. But it's a fantastic idea, isn't it? Yummy. "I'll suck you off when we get home," Adam amends. No sense in getting pulled over. How embarrassing would that be, right? Oof.

It's a thought to ponder until they're in Adam's Mustang, and Tommy slouches in his seat, the belt fastened across his chest and over his hips. Since Adam's not going to jerk him off in the car, Tommy takes the initiative and unzips his jeans, sliding his fingers inside, looking nothing short of _sly._ "I don't know if I want a beej, honestly. I'm curious about this whole collar-leash thing that you were talking about before? Are you trying to make me into your little pet?" Somehow, the idea of that doesn't sound weird or derogatory at all. Kind of hot and kind of comforting, warmth of two different types making Tommy palm over his cock, over his shorts.

"... do you want me to make you my pet?" Adam asks after a distracted moment spent watching Tommy play with himself. _Damn_. "It can be sexy as fuck. You'd be sexy as fuck." He needs to concentrate on the _road_, dammit, so that's where he keeps his eyes. For the moment. "I'd control what you could do and where you could do, since you'd be on the leash."

"I'm okay with that," Tommy answers, all casual, like it's no big deal. What they do at Adam's place - _their_ place, he reminds himself - is private. In public, he's still Tommy Joe Ratliff (and not "Adam Lambert's Boyfriend", thank fuck), who goes out for beer and open mic nights with Monte, who loves music and horror and creepers with Dracula on the toes. He's not some kind of weird co-dependant boyfriend that can't go anywhere without Adam attached to him. Or his dick. Though having Adam attached to his dick is never a bad thing, okay? Tommy slouches a little lower in his seat, rubbing himself off through his shorts so Adam can watch.

"Don't make yourself come," Adam is quick to tell him, and he concentrates on the rest of the drive home. Ugh, why do they live so _far_ from the studio?

But finally, he pulls in his driveway and he leans over to kiss Tommy hard, covering his hand with his own and sucking on his tongue. "Upstairs," he says as he pulls back. "Strip."

Tommy's grin is crooked and devious, and all he does is pull his hoodie down over his open jeans before getting into the house. He kicks off his shoes and takes the stairs two at a time so he's waiting for Adam in the bedroom, hoodie unzipped, pants hanging onto his narrow hips by little more than a hopeful thought, and here, in the brighter light of the bedroom, Adam can see the damp spot on Tommy's shorts where his cock had been leaking, in the car. "Strip? Then sit down."

"Who's giving the orders here?" Adam asks, but he's grinning. He'll give Tommy this. For now. Eyes on his lover, Adam pulls takes of his jacket, pulls off his t-shirt and jeans and boxers and socks. And then he sits. _Good Adam_. The thought makes him laugh.

Now that Adam's naked - and god, the sight of it still makes Tommy feel tight and hot, for however many gazillions of times they've fucked, now - Tommy docks his iPod and finds a specific song. It's so fucking predictable, too: Nine Inch Nails' Closer. But at least it's a remix, and a hot one at that. To the beat of the music, Tommy shrugs his hoodie off, hips tilted just-so so Adam can see the hard ridge of Tommy's cock under his shorts and in the open V of his fly. He's not out to give orders here; he's out to show Adam that he can give a motherfucker of a lap dance when the mood strikes him. Tommy's palms push his t-shirt up an inch at a time, hips starting to sway back and forth, and those jeans are going to need more than a hopeful thought if they're going to stay on Tommy's hips.

And _can_ he. Woo. Adam gives a real nice wolf-whistle too and Tommy might be skinny, but he's hot. And he's Adam's. And the dance is very good, judging by the state of Adam's erection. "Swing them hips, hot stuff. Swang it!"

That? Totally interrupts Tommy's flow, and he stops to _laugh_, a bright sound that is rarely caught on camera, but that Adam hears a lot. So Tommy puts some cheese on his movements, biting his lower lip as his shirt's swung around on his fingertips and tossed at Adam. He's grinning when he flicks his nipple rings, oh yeah! And pushes his jeans down, _finally_, kicking them off to leave Tommy in socks and boxers. Scraping his feet on Adam's carpet gets the socks _gone_, and Tommy hooks his thumbs into his boxers, taking them even slower than anything else. Come on, Adam, Tommy knows you've got something to say about all this. Now Tommy's grin is challenging.

Oh, Adam has a _lot_ to say about the show. And it all comes pouring out in a series of expletives about what Adam will _do_ to Tommy when he stops dancing. How he will _ride_ Tommy's ass like a motherfucking horse. How he'll suck Tommy's _brain_ out through his cock. Yeah. All that.

_There he goes,_ Tommy thinks. _My baby walks so slow..._ What a dorky time to be thinking about song lyrics, especially when one version of Closer bleeds into the next, and Tommy does walk slowly toward Adam, able to step out of his boxers by the time he reaches the chair. Then he spreads himself over Adam's lap, a hand fisted in Adam's hair, pulling his head back to drag his tongue up the length of Adam's throat. He wants to see Adam lose himself, lose some of that calm, some of that cool.

Adam moans in response, biting down on his lower lip, fingers digging into Tommy's thighs. He's not thinking about anything but his baby and how good he feels, how warm his skin is. "You should take up dancing on the side," he whispers a moment later, chuckling just a little.

"Yeah, right," Tommy grins, nipping just under Adam's ear. "I'd do this for you on a leash though. Just saying." Just putting that image in Adam's head, that he could yank Tommy in at any given point, and Tommy wouldn't have the ability to stop him. His hips bob down against Adam's, brushing skin against skin, Adam's cock against the hottest, tightest part of Tommy's body, Tommy's own cock sweeping a damp arc on Adam's stomach. "One more song? Think you can handle it?"

"God, I'll try. I hope I don't pass out from lack of blood to my brain though, hot stuff," Adam says with a warm, teasing smile. "I wanna see you shake your ass. You're sexy as fuck." He rubs along Tommy's thighs for a moment, thumbs teasing at his cock, then he lets go. The better to see you dance, my dear.

Before Tommy's straight got Adam'd, he used to go to peeler bars, what, once a month? His friends would get together and sit in Pervert's Row with handfuls of dollar bills and just cheer on _everyone._ So he's got a good idea of what kind of moves to use, even if there isn't a pole. Besides, the idea of Tommy on a pole makes _him_ laugh, hidden behind a hand as he slithers off of Adam's lap and finds another song. 'Slut', by Velvet Acid Christ. That works just _fine._ Behind closed doors, Tommy doesn't care if he looks stupid or ridiculous or silly. Because the way Adam _looks_ at him makes him feel none of those things. He feels _wanted,_ and he gets to his knees to lean in and breathe warm, teasing breath up the length of Adam's cock, lifting his eyes to look at Adam, still cool, still confident. Adam, who knows. And Tommy, who's _still_ learning.

"Oh, fuck," Adam breathes. To be good, he's got his hands laced behind him. He'll be good, dammit. Tommy is wanted. So wanted. Sometimes, Adam thinks how much he wants Tommy is a little unhappy, but not really. But yes, suffice to say that Tommy is wanted. "You're amazing."

"Amateur," Tommy murmurs, letting his lips glance off of Adam's cock. He's having fun doing this, okay? Hearing the way Adam's voice starts to lose its clarity, knowing that he's holding himself back. But Tommy wants Adam to get to the point where he _can't_ hold back, because he _wants_ too much. He nips the inside of Adam's thigh, smoothing it in with a lick of tongue, and skims his fingers up Adam's cock with a breathy, open-mouthed smile.

"A-amateur?" It's the first time in a while since Adam's been called _that_. He wants to be a little offended, but he can't quite muster the oomph necessary. "You're good at this, though. Seriously. A second career. Except that I don't want you to do this for anyone else. Just me."

Tommy wasn't calling Adam amateur, though! He was calling _himself_ an amateur, in contradiction to Adam calling him amazing. Oh god, Adam's so far from being amateur that Tommy's sure he wouldn't be able to find it with both hands and a flashlight. "Yeah," he answers. "I am. Never did the sexy dance until-" He has to swallow. Being this close to Adam's cock is seriously making his mouth water. "Since we went to the club? For the video?" At least, he's never done the sexy dance with his clothes off. He remembers Adam's eyes, that night, how dark they'd been, how hungry. "You make me wanna do it." Tommy leans forward and teases the tip of his tongue up the length of Adam's cock.

"I inspire your slutty side? Go me." Adam's grin is dusky and that little bit smug. "What else do I make you want to do, baby?" He wants a list. He wants to _know_, thanks. Then they can work on bringing it all to fruition in the little bit of spare time they have between music biz stuff.

There are a _lot_ of things that Adam makes Tommy want to do, and only a few of them involve sex. "You make me want to write music." Words against Adam's thigh, followed by kisses. He's not dancing anymore, because, well. Tommy's on his knees and there's little more he could do than sway side to side. "You make me care about shit. You make me realize that being friends is just as important as fucking the socks off of each other. You make me want to do stuff like..." Enough with the sap, okay? Tommy's grin reappears when he looks up at Adam. "See how you'd react if I fucked you with a toy while sucking your cock. You know. Stuff like that."

"Shit," Adam chuckles out, thrown off by the disparity of the list of things that Tommy mentioned. But he unlaces his fingers and touches his lover's face and smiles. "I would love to hear the music you write and you are my friend. I love you." Then his grin turns cock-eyed and he shrugs. "And maybe we can do that toy thing some time."

"Love you, too." Tommy bites one of Adam's fingertips. "Now. You've got me stripped down to nothing, hard enough that I think I could chop down a tree with my dick, and I'm on my hands and knees." The unspoken part - _What's the plan?_ \- is left for Adam to think about as Tommy nudges Adam's knees apart a little further and sucks down on his cock.

"Oh, shit." Adam closes his eyes to push away the whiplash of the different topics Tommy threw out at him. "You're going to have to let me up to get the collar and leash, baby." Adam's fingers trace along the column of Tommy's neck, hickeys here and there still barely healed and fading.

Tommy pulls back with a damp kiss, and that crooked smile reappears. "You actually _have_ a collar and leash? You're fuckin' dirty. Next thing I know, I'm gonna have a plug in my ass and you're gonna be choking me with the collar." Oh. Damn. Did that just make Tommy's cock jerk? Maybe.

And one of Adam's eyebrows arches. He could get behind that. But he doesn't say a word. Instead, he gets up, letting his cock brush along Tommy's cheek before he steps away. He throws a smile over his shoulder and sashays his hips a little bit before he disappears into the closet. Tommy can hear the doors opening and closing, then an "a-ha!" Reappearing, he holds a glittery, studded collar from his finger. With his other index finger, he beckons Tommy. _Come here, good boy_.

Of course it's glittery. It came from Adam's closet. That sounds a little bit like a horror movie, doesn't it? It Came From Adam's Closet, dun dun dunnn. Tommy hides his laugh against the heel of his hand as he gets to his feet and comes over to Adam. And then sits at his feet, looking up, chin raised, neck exposed.

"Fuck, you're pretty." The words come out quietly, and sincerely. And okay, so Tommy is _gorgeous_ this way, no lie. Slowly, with respect, he slides the collar around Tommy's neck and buckles it so that it's a little look. It makes Tommy's neck look even longer. Adam runs his thumb along the collar, then the warm skin under it. "You're so good."

This time, Tommy's smile is a little sweeter under Adam's praise, showing dimples instead of teeth. For all the kinky things they do, Adam's never treated him with less than respect. Okay, let's not talk about that one volatile time with the cock ring and ball gag; even then, though, by the end of that night, Adam had treated him with care. It's Tommy's turn to lace his fingers together behind his back, letting Adam take the lead on this. No pun intended.

Gorgeous. "Safeword," Adam says quietly, to remind Tommy that there are rules and they follow them. He walks around behind his boy's back and traces the line of his shoulders with his fingers. There's something about the _anticipation_ that feels so good. It makes Adam's nipples hard, his skin tingly. "Lean forward. Forehead to the floor, please."

"Rickenbacker," Tommy answers, and leans forward, as Adam tells him. He keeps his arms curled under him, crossed over his chest, knees together, cock pressed up against his stomach, and yes, he feels it too. That electricity, that magnetism, the sense of _waiting,_ like the moment before a storm. Goosebumps run down his back, and absurdly, he can smell the stuff the cleaning people use on the carpet when they vacuum. It smells good.

The line of Tommy's spine is gorgeous. Tommy's so _thin_ that there's enough Jew in Adam that he wants to get Tommy to _eat_, but he eats plenty, Adam knows. So that gets stifled. But Adam does run his finger along those bumps. So fucking pretty. Fingertips up then _nails_ down, digging into the pale flesh and making red streaks appear. Oh, yes. That's what Adam needs. The claw glove. "Don't move," he says, and he heads back to the closet.

The only thing Tommy does is _breathe_, a shivery gasp that fits between the lines that sit on his skin, now. He has no clue what Adam's going to get, and doesn't dare look to see, either. All he can do is _wait._ Adam's never given him a reason to safeword, and Tommy's certain he's not about to start, now. Even with a collar and leash.

As he returns once again from his closet, Adam's aware of how ridiculous he might look were there any observers. Naked, hard, only wearing a black leather and gold-plated claw glove. Who the fuck cares? Not him. He runs the claw down Tommy's back - they're probably, he realizes, cold.

_Whoa._ Tommy's muscles jump under his skin, and his elbows thud down against the floor as he fights not to arch away from the claws. The minute he feels them, he knows _exactly_ what they are, and his muscles aren't the only things that jump. In the press between the tops of his thighs and his stomach, Tommy's cock jerks, too. _Who knew,_ he thinks to himself. Who knew he'd like these things. Being objectified, teased, worshipped in a backward sort of way. He loves it.

"Good," Adam says, seeing Tommy pull that bit of control back. The claw goes back down Tommy's back again and lower, then over the barely-there curve of Tommy's ass, one gold "finger" slipping between the clefts of his asscheeks. And Adam finds himself wondering ... _could_ he fuck Tommy with one of the claws? Or a better question: _should_ he?

Tommy wouldn't have any objection. Adam would be _careful._ But at the thin sensation of claw against skin that's _really_ sensitive, Tommy makes a sound that's almost too low to hear, forehead pressed against the carpet, hands balled into tight fists now, tucked underneath his jaw. Don't move. Don't pull away. Adam knows what he's doing, and that's exactly the reason that Tommy's as hard as he is, right to the point that it feels like it reaches into his body and wraps around the base of his spine. God.

He's beautiful, truly. Everyone is beautiful in their own way, yes, but Tommy is beautiful in all that he gives Adam without saying a word. So as a reward for that, Adam runs his warm hand and the claw up Tommy's back. "On the bed, baby. Spread out face down. Get comfy."

There's that shiver under Tommy's skin again, but he gets to his feet - unmindful that he's got carpet-indent on his forehead, shut up - and lies on the bed, arms under his head, legs spread in a narrow V. "Like this?" This is probably bad news for his dick, okay? At least when he was on the floor, there was pressure between legs and stomach, but here, there's only the soft weave of cotton. And it does _nothing._

"Just like that, yeah." Even though Tommy's pale, he looks good stretched out like that. Adam fetches the lube from the nightstand and then he kneels between Tommy's legs. "I'm gonna open you up, baby. Gonna make you nice and loose. Then I'm gonna play with this." The claw glove runs down Tommy's back again. "Okay?"

"Okay." Adam knows how much Tommy talks, normally, but now he's reduced to a word or two, reactionary when all he can do right now is _feel._ He feels that claw, feels Adam's weight on the bed, feels the promise behind Adam's words. Even the sound of the flip-top on the lube bottle makes Tommy anticipatory, turning his head to glance back over his shoulder at Adam. "I'm comfortable. By the way."

"Good. I'm glad." And Adam smiles at him, pausing for a moment to just look at Tommy's face. Then it's back to "work." He smears lube carefully on his ungloved hand and begins doing just as he said he'd do - open Tommy up, taking his time with it, feeling the tight heat. "Gonna make you feel good. Then when I bring this glove on tour, every time I wear it, you're going to remember, aren't you, baby?"

There are few things that Tommy _doesn't_ remember, when things get intense like this. In fact, all he has to do is close his eyes and he can see every time, like it's a slideshow being played in his brain. This is just one more added to it, legs tensing and the muscles in his back tightening as Tommy breathes out, "Yeah." This isn't quick and dirty - even though there's _nothing_ wrong with that - but as drawn out as their days in Mexico had been, hot and humid, and Tommy turns his face against his arms to stifle the little sounds that Adam pulls out of him.

"You're hot and tight and you're gorgeous. You don't even realize how gorgeous you are," Adam tells him, the hand with the glove on splayed in the small of Tommy's back as he watches himself work Tommy open. "I don't want to tell you if you're going to get a big head," he teases gently though, with an audible smile.

It makes Tommy laugh, breaking the spell, just a little. He kicks a leg at Adam, looking over his shoulder again, and he catches just a gold flash of the glove that's on Adam's other hand. "I'm gonna be a mess when we're done, huh?" Teeth digging into his lower lip, Tommy presses his hips against the bed for some kind of pressure, some kind of friction and finding nearly nothing. "Better have beer in the fridge for after."

"The only reason we have beer in this house is because of you, you know." But Adam's touch and his tone are gentle. Kink or no kink, he loves Tommy. Period. Then he's quiet, just using two, then three fingers and a lot of lube to make sure that his boy's ready. Leaning back, he gets lube on the first of the claws as he moves to straddle one of Tommy's leg to get the angle just right. "Push back," he says, "get that ass in the air a little bit for me, baby."

Tommy gets his knees under him and arches his back, hips tilted up and chest down against the bed. He's not looking, expecting to feel the hot slide of Adam's cock, the press of skin into skin that he _loves_. But now that he's in position, Tommy skims out a grin and shakes his hips, just a little. Ta da!

"Cheeky," Adam grins. And adorable and sexy as fuck. He changes his angle again, kneeling now next to Tommy so that he can cup his gloved hand around the curve of that teeny ass. Then Tommy feels the shock of the cool, slick metal as Adam pushes it in, a bit at a time, slow and careful.

Wait. Just a second. Is- Is that-? Adam can hear the surprised suck of Tommy's breath as he fists his hands into the sheet below him to keep from pulling away. He knows it's one of those gold claws, cold on his skin, _in_ his skin, and he makes a questioning little sound that comes out like "Huh?!" but shaky. Adam's never used something that isn't, well, cock-shaped before. Fingers obviously don't count. They're a given. Same with Adam's mouth. Mm. Adam's mouth.

"It's okay, baby," Adam whispers, stopping so Tommy can get used to it. "It's okay. I won't hurt you." But of course, Tommy can safeword if he wants or needs to. "How does it feel?" Asking that, he urges it in, just a little deeper.

"Weird?" Like Tommy's unsure of himself. "Not bad," he's quick to add, though, because it _isn't_ bad. Just... weird. "There's no..." He ducks his head to think of the right word and gets distracted by how _smooth_ it is, and breathes out a long, slow sigh. In that sigh, his hips lift a little more, all but fucking presenting himself to Adam. The collar around his neck brushes against the back of a fist, and Tommy turns his hand over to run his fingertips against it. On some level, it's soothing to know that he's _kept._

"There's no what?" Using just a couple inches of the claw, Adam rocks it in and out, using his other hand to reach down, brush fingertips along Tommy's balls and cock, teasing. "It looks amazing, I have to say." His own cock twitches, jerking against Tommy's hip.

Tommy's breath hitches and stutters, a combination of skin touching skin and _metal_, that's _in_ him. "I don't know," he says, though, unable to find the word once he'd lost it. His cock feels heavy, impossibly hard, slick at the tip under Adam's touch. "Like, there's... it's a lot harder than-" It's pretty unfair that Adam's asking him to describe it, okay? When all Tommy wants to do is _feel_ it.

And Tommy is many things, but eloquent he is not. And that's okay. That's where Adam picks up the relationship, right? Give and take. To push the claw in deeper, he has to curl his hand, his fist butting up against Tommy's ass. Adam rocks it in as far as he can without worrying that the curve of it will hurt Tommy, and he wraps his hand around Tommy's cock, stroking. "Good boy," he says, kissing his lover's shoulder.

It's like being stretched in a totally different way, even though Adam _did_ take his time to get Tommy ready nearly past the point of what he'd need. But there's no _give_, and even though the metal of the claw is warm now with Tommy's body heat, it's still vastly, incredibly different than Adam's cock, fingers, tongue. Different even than a toy; the glove wasn't _meant_ for what they're doing now. But as Adam rocks it, it has the same effect, sliding easily across nerve endings, making Tommy breathe out a long, low groan, cock jerking in Adam's hand.

"So pretty," Adam tells him, tightening his grip on Tommy's cock and stroking it counter-time to the claw. "I'm gonna make you come, baby. Then I'm gonna fuck you, okay?" And if Tommy has a little bit of trouble sitting down tomorrow, Adam suspects that he won't mind.

Fuck, Tommy's going to be _so_ sensitive by the time Adam fucks him, but he can't say no, and _won't._ He nods, of course, body rocking back and forth depending on what he's feeling more, Adam's hand or the claw. He can hear the rush of blood in his ears as heat spirals in him, lower, tighter, _hotter._ Adam can hear the build of Tommy's orgasm in the way he breathes, in the way his body tightens; his cock throbs like it's got a pulse all its own, and when he comes, he pushes back against Adam's fist and the claw, slicking Adam's other hand in streaks of come.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Adam whispers, loosening his grip on Tommy's cock, but still stroking as he carefully urges back the claw until it's free of his lover's body. "Good. You're so good. You're _so good_." When he finally lets go, he can strip off the claw glove and wipe his other hand on the sheets before he urges Tommy's chin up to kiss him. "God, I love you."

Tommy's kiss is lax and soft, eyes closed with the little zings of pleasure that spark through him after coming, and he shifts his weight to one hand so he can palm the outside of Adam's leg. "I love you," he murmurs back, breathless. "I... I just got glove-fucked." Even his laugh is loose, disbelieving, and he pulls his eyes open to try and focus them on Adam's face. "How do you want me, now? Still like this?" Then Adam can watch himself fuck Tommy, and god, that's hot just to _think_ about.

It is hot to think about, but so is seeing Tommy's face. So Adam shakes his head and he pushes at Tommy's shoulder to get him to roll over onto his back. That way, Adam can push Tommy's knees to his chest and smile down at him as he knees between his legs. "I know this will hurt, some, baby. Okay?"

"Okay." Tommy wiggles his toes at Adam, a hand coming up to cup the back of Adam's head and pull him down for a proper kiss. "When have I ever been afraid of a little pain, huh?" To prove a point, his hand drops to Adam's cock, urging him forward until they're only separated by a push, a press. He does feel tingly, sensitive, but 'hurt' feels far away right now.

Letting Tommy's hand guide him in, Adam breathes out against Tommy's mouth. "Oh," he whispers, finally feeling some friction on his cock. "Yeah." He braces his weight on both hands and leans down to kiss Tommy again. He's loose enough that Adam can slide right in to the hilt and start thrusting. "Yeah."

Okay, and _that's_ when the hurt comes up, sharp and quick, not _pain_, but that jagged oversensitivity that has Tommy's heels bumping against the backs of Adam's hips, has him arching his neck and tensing his fingers, his instinct telling him to push _away_ while what he knows of Adam and what they're doing cries for _more_. "There," he answers. "Okay, yeah."

"Yeah." Cocking his head just a little, Adam nips his way down Tommy's neck, leaving sharp little stinging bites that won't last too long. Going up on his toes, too, he thrusts in even deeper, slowly, curling Tommy up under him.

Nerve endings aren't supposed to be treated like this! Tommy tugs at Adam's hair, not knowing exactly what he wants to accomplish in doing that, but lets himself be rocked back and forth by Adam's body. He _loves_ Adam's body: tall and graceful, warm and freckled, and the affection that comes off as so expressive in all of his movements, in bed or out. Right now, though, it makes Tommy _writhe_, heels digging into the bed, toes going between curled and spread, depending on if Adam's moving one way or the other.

Honestly, he won't be suffering, if that's what he'd call it, very long. Adam's too turned on from all that they were doing before and the long, even strokes are making him moan and pant, hips flexing when he pushes all the way in. It feels _so good_. "Baby," he whispers a few seconds later. "I'm gonna. I'm ... gonna."

Oh god, it's _not_ suffering. Not at all. Fuck, Tommy's got a big thing for the way Adam's voice sounds when he's close, breathy and tight and high, and he tightens his legs around Adam's hips, pulling him _in_ "Good," he encourages, rough and nearly voiceless. "Good."

"Oh, _shit_." With a hard snap, Adam goes as deep as he can and goes still for a brief moment, then he's _coming_, hard, trilling out one of those tight, high sounds as it rushes through him. "Oh, shit. _Fuck_." His toes curl in the bedcovers and he pants on Tommy's neck.

Tommy _growls_, the sensation just as intense for him as it is for Adam, but in different ways. God, it feels _good_, Adam giving himself up to Tommy like that after Tommy had given up everything he could to Adam, before. And to know that Adam wants him this _much_ is kind of awesome, too. He turns his head to kiss at Adam's temple, where the hair is sticky with exertion and product, and just like the carpet, Tommy realizes it smells good, too. It smells like Adam.

"I love you," Adam tells him and kind of squishes him for a minute before he can get himself to lean back, to fall to his side and pull Tommy close. "Fuck, you're so _hot_." And Tommy can feel Adam's smile against his neck. "I'm starving now. What should we order to go with your beer?"

"Mexican. I want a burrito." There's a vacancy to Tommy's words that Adam would recognize, that he's talking without really putting much thought behind his words. "I love you, too. You turn me on like a fuckin' Marshall amp." His head is loose on his neck when he turns to kiss Adam's skin. "You want fish tacos?"

"Ugh, yes. I would love a good one. Like I got growing up." Adam gets Tommy cradled against him and pets over his hair, letting him come back in his own time. It's not really that late, only like one AM. "We are not eating Taco Bell, though. I refuse. I must have a menu downstairs for someplace." He had a whole binder of menus by the phone thanks to ... someone. "I'll get it in a minute."

"'kay," Tommy murmurs, fingers playing at the collar around his neck. "Do you want me to keep this on? Is it like.... I don't know." Tommy's other hand pushes his hair back from his face, content for now just to lie here and be naked with Adam with the promise of non-Taco Bell Mexican food. "I read something about... collaring. That it's this _thing._ That's important." He blinks his eyes open and looks at Adam, dark and oddly serious.

"You read about it?" Adam can't quite keep the surprise off his face as he cranes his neck to look at his lover. "It's ... a big deal, yeah. I mean ... there are levels to it, right? Like ... occasional. Or sometimes people do it full-time. That's ... not for us, not formal like that, but .... " He traces his finger between the collar and Tommy's skin. "Would you want that?"

"Dude, that's what the internet's for." When Tommy laughs, it's obvious that he's feeling less hazed out and more thoughtful. He shuffles up until he's sitting, back resting against the headboard. "I kinda read it like... I don't know. This is so _weird_ to be talking about it, you know?" He tucks his bangs behind his ear, a firm reminder that he needs to _do something_ about his fucking hair. "It's kinda like... commitment, you know?"

"Yeah, it is. Kind of a big commitment." And Adam is serious. This is serious. "Are you ... I mean, we can definitely do that if you want. Or talk about it more or ... whatever, you know? I - God." Adam can feel his cheeks flush and he leans in, kissing Tommy fiercely. "I love you."

"I think I'd look pretty hot with a big spiky collar," Tommy grins, when Adam pulls away. "Like one of those chihuahuas that's called, like, Killer, or something." He chews his lower lip for a minute, not looking at Adam or anything else in particular. "I know I really dicked you around before. I didn't know what I was doing, or what I was supposed to do. I wanna _be_ with you, you know? And maybe that'd be a good way to prove it." One shoulder goes up and down in a shrug. "I'm gonna grab a beer, you want some water?"

"I'll go. You rest, okay?" Adam kisses Tommy's forehead this time and he sits up. "Don't do it just because you want to prove something. I know you love me; all that was ... it wasn't fun, but it was necessary, you know? I'll be right back, okay?" And he ghosts his fingers along Tommy's jaw before he pulls away and stands up, heading for the hall and the kitchen downstairs. "I'll bring the menus, too."

While Adam's gone, Tommy thinks about it on a basic level. Would he wear a collar all the time? No, he's not a dog. Not even a chihuahua named Killer. But it'll be what it _means_, both to him and to Adam. And when Adam comes back, Tommy's got a smile and a decision. "Burritos, beer and collars. I'm in."

A binder in one arm, a beer in one hand, a coconut juice in the other, Adam stops in the doorway. "Well," he says. "Okay." And he can't help but smile.


End file.
